Monday, October 6, 2014

Saturday's Talkers on Monday or Tuesday: The Bye Week Edition

Bye weeks are fun, aren’t they? Especially coming off a big
win.

This was the second consecutive bye week we’ve gotten to let
the endorphins run wild and dream the impossible dream. Our last bye came after
the victory over Penn State last year, where we just wrapped up our fourth
conference victory in a row for the first time since the Vietnam War. We were
8-2 and had our sights set on a home game against Wisconsin, with a very
outside chance of winning the erstwhile Legends division. Things came to an
abrupt halt after the week off, but we got to revel in the glory of what could
be for one blessed week.

The entirety of my week was spent doing something of a
rarity as a Gopher sports fan: basking in the sweet glow of success. People,
friends and co-workers, who know of my obsession with the Gophers congratulated
me – I got texts from people I hadn’t spoken with in years who sent their well
wishes. This must be like what winning the lottery, where acquaintances come
out of the woodwork to make themselves known; only without the $200 million and
jing and floating castle.

Frankly, sitting on the edge of the couch while the team came
out of victory formation and the TV switched to Joe Bjorklund sprinting (well,
doing whatever it is when offensive linemen move as fast as they can) to grab
the Jug I felt, well, pretty damn good. Not winning the lottery good, or birth
of a child good or unlimited trips to the pizza and taco buffet good; but a deeply
profound sense of satisfaction.

There is a feeling of dread known only to long-time
supporters of generally bad sports teams – a mix of excitement for what could
happen coupled with the rumble of ten-thousand stampeding horses bearing down
on you: the possibility of greatness rarely exists in thought without the more
certain likelihood of pain. When we’re losing during a game or after a string
of losses, we feel that pain acutely throughout the season. When we’re
winning a game, the possibility of the pain tolls in the back of your mind.
Only when victory is assured– and not just any victory, only those of
consequence or over boogeymen – do we have that moment, the certainty of
knowledge that there will be no pain. It happens all too rarely for us, or it
has until recently, so we savor every blessed moment.

So, yeah, I enjoyed that win immensely and I’m sure the
three readers of this blog probably did too. I would have enjoyed the bye week
more if Michigan had thrashed Rutgers and lent some credence to the notion that
we had beaten a tough Michigan team, but c'est la vie. They’re reeling and
since this was the fourth time in my life we’ve managed to win the Jug, I couldn’t
have cared less if the Wolverines were a rotting corpse by the end of the game.
A win is a win, damn it.

It was pretty special watching Wisconsin lose to
Northwestern. A lot gets made about how Minnesotans suck because they spend
more time and energy cheering against Wisconsin than they do for Minnesota
teams. I’ve had a couple go-rounds with a ZZZ-level employee of one of our local
network stations on this subject. He’s an unapologetic Wisconsin alumnus and the
paragon as to why Minnesotans have this complex. He claims to want Minnesota
teams to do well, while throwing out every passive-aggressive barb possible as
it relates to the Gophers vis a vis the Badgers. You don’t (or at least I don’t)
see that sort of condescending self fellation from Iowa fans – Badger
supporters have cornered the market on self-congratulatory asshattery; so, yes,
I very much enjoy watching them lose.

The topic du jour over the Gopher innertronz seems to be
whether the Badgers defeat to Northwestern portends awful things for this
weekend’s clash against the Evanston Cats.

Man, I don’t know. After my
long-winded apology thread, I’m reluctant to jump back on the struggle bus of doubt; so
how about a poor, long-winded metaphor? I was a bigger kid growing up (that’s
code for “husky” or “fat”). Norwegian whaling ships were a constant menace in
the waters outside of my home. I never really played much on teeter-totters,
but when I did, the poor bastard on the other end always got stuck in the air.
I’d push up with my legs, but since I weighed so much more than the other four-year
old, I’d end up with my feet back on the ground. A harsh lesson in physics
before I had ever even heard of Schrödinger’s poor cat.

At any rate, when you spend your whole childhood looking up
from the bottom of a teeter-totter, you start to see the world a certain way.
Now, maybe, you lose a little weight or the rest of the kids grow into you and
you start to see what life is like from the top, or at least not always from
the lowest point. It’s pretty cool up there, but you’re really not used to the
bright sun and, oh, hell, that’s a long way down. You like it – you could
certainly get used to it – but you’re totally unfamiliar with it.

We’re not at the bottom of the teeter-totter anymore, guys.
For the second year in a row, we have legitimate hope of a great season. We
have the defense we’ve always wanted, a running game that can hold its own in
the conference and a few sprouts of hope with respect to moving the ball
through the air. But the fear is still there. Just like a team that always
loses, we fans, or at least I, have to learn how to win. They, the team, have
to do it because success is unattainable without a positive mentality. I have
to do it because of stress eating and pancreas transplants aren’t really a
thing yet.

This week, we’ll look at that inescapable fear of the top of
the teeter-totter. Maybe we can find a way through it together. Or maybe we’ll
just find catharsis, reconciliation and better living through pharmaceuticals.